When Mary Met Mabel
by Silvestria
Summary: "On returning to her aunt's house, Mary was astonished to find Mabel Lane Fox making herself at home in the drawing room." Mary meets her match and Charles Blake's schemes come under fire. Set between 5x05 and 5x06.


On returning to her aunt's house, Mary was astonished to find Mabel Lane Fox making herself at home in the drawing room.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" she asked, covering her surprise as she took off her hat and handed it to Lady Rosamund's butler.

Miss Lane Fox stood up. "Oh, it's not a pleasure, Lady Mary, don't mistake me. But I did want to make something very clear to you."

Mary sat down and gestured with her hand. "Please."

Her guest, if she could be called that, seated herself once more. She looked at Mary directly. "I wanted to tell you that I do believe you, when you said the other day that this abominable scheme of Charles' was not your idea."

"You came here to tell me this?"

"Yes. I believe you and I don't blame you. Only a man could have thought such a ridiculous thing might work."

Mary almost smiled but she felt a pang of disappointment all the same. A part of her really had hoped Charles might have been right. It would have been wonderfully convenient. And then there was the simple thrill of the thing. "Then you really will not help us?"

Mabel gave a short laugh. "Help the woman who stole my fiancé to get rid of him again? No, Lady Mary, I won't!"

Mary pursed her lips. "As I said, I did not _steal _Tony. He left of his own accord."

"Do you think your saying that makes me feel any better?"

"I suppose not." She hesitated and then added in a querying tone, "So you _do _love him. In that case, I'm very sorry."

Mabel leaned back in her chair, her eyes hard as she surveyed Mary. "He was my fiancé," she said deliberately. "And while he was engaged to me, he was making it perfectly clear that he wished he were engaged to another woman. Love has nothing to do with it. I would not go back to him for anything in the world. Marry a man who prefers another woman? I'm not young enough to play those kind of games!"

Mary found she had to look away. That direct stare was unnerving her more than she liked. "I deserve that," she said eventually. "And I would not want you to do that."

"No. Do you mind if I smoke?"

Mary's eyes darted up and she shook her head. Mabel lighted a cigarette in a long, gold cigarette holder and then held another out to Mary. She hesitated.

"Go on," said Miss Lane Fox, a smile playing around her lips. "It won't kill you."

Mary shrugged and accepted it, lit it from the end of Mabel's and took an experimental drag. Hot air rushed into her lungs and made her choke and her eyes smart. As casually as if she owned the place, Mabel went over to a jug of water on the sideboard and poured a glass of it and returned to Mary's side, holding it out. "It gets better," she said with a quick grin.

Mary sipped the water and blinked away the tears that had started into her eyes.

"You know," said Mabel as she watched Mary, "you would look terrific with shorter hair. Have you ever considered it?"

Clearing her throat, she replied, "My husband always preferred my hair long."

"I suppose he would also prefer you not to spend a week in Tony Gillingham's bed but you did all the same."

Mary's eyebrows shot into her hair line.

"Oh? I'm sorry, is it just my love life that we are allowed to discuss? Am I in love with Tony? Am I not? Does it matter so long as I will get him away from you? But mention _your _feelings and suddenly I'm out of line!" Mabel shook her head, a cool smile on her lips. "Double standards, Lady Mary, double standards!"

Mary took a nervous drag on her cigarette but she was prepared for it this time and though her eyes smarted she did not cough. "Very well, Miss Lane Fox. What do you wish to know?"

She laughed. "Where to start? I could ask you about Tony and how all that began but I realise I don't care. Tell me instead, are you in love with Charles?"

"Am I in love with Charles?"

"Yes." Her tone was condescending. "Is it a difficult question?"

"It is not the question that is difficult," she replied eventually, evasively.

"Astonishing." Mabel blew out a perfect jet of smoke. "He is pathetically in love with you so before you agree to any of his wild schemes, I would try to establish your own feelings. I know how hard you find that sort of thing."

"Charles is – not in love with me." Mary felt aware that her hand holding the cigarette was trembling. He had told her so himself, hadn't he? That he was not one to die of a broken heart, and how comforted she had felt by that!

"Really?" Mabel's raised eyebrows rivalled her own. "Then why is he going to such an effort to rid himself of his rival? Don't think it's out of an altruistic concern for you because he doesn't have an altruistic bone in his body. No, Charles plays the long game; he is a strategist. He will only do something if he gets something out of it. And what do you suppose he hopes to win here?"

"Me, I suppose," retorted Mary, determined not to let Mabel score the point, but disliking the principle extremely. "But," she added, pushing back, "perhaps you haven't considered what _I _get out of it."

"Of course I have. You get what you want – whatever that is. Currently you want to be rid of Tony. And perhaps you want Charles too."

"Perhaps you are in love with Charles yourself."

Mabel shrugged. "What would be the point when he is in love with you? But I am very fond of him. You see, he is a popular man in society and he has many friends, lady friends I mean, such as myself. But he is only in love with you." She smiled suddenly. "You see, what makes us different, Lady Mary, is that I prefer to tell the truth at all costs and I am not afraid to know what I want. No – you won't throw me out, not now, when you know I'm right. Charles doesn't understand you – that's what makes you so fascinating. He likes to think he knows everything about everyone but you're a closed book, he finds you unpredictable and, if you let him, he would dedicate his life to trying to make you out. He cannot imagine anything more thrilling. You are the greatest thing that has ever happened to him."

Mary had shifted in her seat, had moved to stand up instead of staying to be insulted in her own home, but Miss Lane Fox had her in her thrall and she couldn't not be interested in what she was saying. Instinctively she believed her and recognised Charles Blake in her description. Instead of putting her off, she was excited by it. She loved to be unpredictable and unreadable but she also loved the idea that perhaps Charles would understand her and that he already did on some level in every turn of his head that mirrored her own and in every shared smile and mutual scheme.

Mabel tapped out her ash and continued to speak, not looking at Mary now. "On the whole, Charles does understand people very well. He understands me, for instance. He understands that once I've got over my anger, once I have abused him thoroughly to his face and come here and abused you too – he is probably waiting outside for me to emerge at this very moment so that he can congratulate himself on his prescience, I will put it behind me – that I will agree to help you."

Now Mary really did not understand. "You will help us? Why?"

"Because sometimes I'm _nice_." She leaned back in her chair and surveyed Mary through narrowed eyes then tipped her head back and laughed. "And perhaps I want to see Tony squirm. Let him know what it feels like to be played for a fool!"

Mary twisted her head away. "Tony is a good m-"

"And singularly unimaginative. He will fall in love again; he is the sort of man who will always find someone, and there are more pretty young ladies in the world than there are men to marry them."

This was true. Mary wondered if Mabel, younger than her by at least five years and still unmarried, felt the lack of available young men after the war particularly keenly. Clearly not keenly enough to want to take Tony back.

"Well, supposing I accept your help-"

"Of course you will accept it."

"Very well. What then? How will you prise Tony away from me?"

"We await our marching orders from our general, don't we?"

Mary pursed her lips at the mocking, challenging smile hovering over Mabel's face. "I have an idea."

"Oh? Does Charles know?"

"Not yet."

"Then do tell!"

"Do you ride, Miss Lane Fox?"

"I have been known to, yes."

"Good."

"Explain yourself, Lady Mary."

"There is a point-to-point race near Downton next Saturday. I know Tony will be coming, Charles could be invited as well. You could come as well."

"Ride a race _and_ see the famous Downton Abbey for myself?" Mabel's eyes gleamed as she leaned forwards. "How could I resist?"

"Then it's a plan?"

Mabel held out a slim, white hand. "Our plan!"

And, for the first time in their conversation, Mary smiled as she gripped Miss Lane Fox's hand in hers and shook it. They let go and rose together from their seats, Mary stubbing out her cigarette as she did so.

"There's no need to tell Charles that I don't intend to marry Tony," said Mabel as she made her way to the door.

Mary smiled faintly. "No need at all, I'm sure."

"And find me a good horse, will you? I don't intend to let you win if I can help it."

"What makes you think I would win?"

Mabel raised her eyebrows and looked her from top to bottom and back up again. "You're Lady Mary Crawley." Then she was gone.

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><p><em>Happy bobbed-hair-and-hunting Downton Day! As always, reviews are gratefully appreciated. :)<em>


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